Revisting the past
by four-stories-tall
Summary: Hermione and Harry have some unfinished business. This story I'd abandoned. I started writing this a long time ago an it's not something I'm thinking of finishing. However, if anyone would be interested in taking this story under their wing and reviving it I would consider it.
1. Prologue

She's standing right here, not even three metres away from me, and she's gorgeous – don't be stupid Harry – of course she is. Her hair is pinned up in a mass of curls, each one fighting to disentangle from the pin that has them captured. I always preferred her hair out, free and beautiful, just as she is. Her dress robes are white; they pull in at the waist and accentuate her curves,

"Do you, Hermione Granger, take Dean Thomas, to be your wizard?"

The cranky old magistrate's squeaky voice reminds me of where I am. Her wedding. I should be happy. I am happy. Hermione loves him – wait, why does she love him again? He's not good enough for her.

Where's Ron when you need him? Why couldn't he be this blasted 'best wizard'? Ah, that's right, "can't Harry, emergency at Charlie's". I'm sure Charlie would have been fine without two or three of his organs. Why do I have to stand next to a man I really couldn't care less about right now, as he marries the woman I'm in love with? Because I'm her best friend, I'm her support, even now, just before she says her last words before married life; she's looking at me, nervous, unspoken words to me asking for reassurance. I give her a little comforting smile back. She turns her eyes back to her future husband and her marrier.

"Yes"

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Oh Harry, it's now or never, come on now, I thought if I'd start getting serious with Dean, Harry'd decide he really did want me. Stupid Hermione.

Don't get me wrong, I love Dean, he's sweet, funny, kind, genuine, a good friend. Everything you'd want in a future husband. He's my future husband, he's practically my husband. Look at me, all done up for two men.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, take Dean Thomas, to be your wizard?"

Okay, breathe Hermione, you'll live. Just take a breath. I look at Harry; his eyes are sort of out of it, like he's not here. I'm so nervous, come on Harry, this is your last chance, tell me you don't want me to marry Dean – and I won't. If you don't, this is it. I'll be Mrs Hermione Thomas, ring and all.

Come on Harry, tell me now.

He smiles at me. This little reassuring smile that's all very comforting and friendly, it makes everything clear – he doesn't love me; I was being stupid and pathetic. Now I've got to get married.

Okay, decision made.

"Yes"


	2. Chapter 1

_6 years later._

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It's dark, dreary, wet and completely miserable – a typical day in England. The weather is fitting for the mood and the event.

As a couple of nameless wizards levitate the now closed coffin into the pre dug grave, I stare at its decent. It just seems so surreal. Two warm arms are around me, one freckled, the other pale and clammy, I need their warmth; I won't be getting it from my husband anymore.

I can feel the clammy arm – Harry's – tighten and grip my black robes, I must be crying. I've been crying non-stop since I got the letter. Stupid bloody letter anyway. I wipe away the wetness furiously.

"_To whom it may concern-_" I think it's quite obvious who it concerns,

"_Mr Thomas, of Patterson's Uncured Junk, has been killed in an unforseen-_" If it was foreseen, you probably wouldn't have told me anyway, bastards.

"_-accident. An item that was previously deemed safe and its curse lifted, was falsely diagnosed._

_Our condolences,_

_Shane Patterson Jnr_"

And that was it really. Three days ago, my husband was killed in a stupid accident involving a dodgy clock and three enchanted balloons.

The grave is completely filled now. Harry and Ron help me walk to the freshly laid grey headstone. As I kneel, I muster my energy together; I cast a spell which scribes the message in my head onto the blank headstone in front of me.

"_Dean Thomas_

_1980- 2006_

_-I loved him-_"

I stumble to a stand and those warm arms gather me up again. They'll be with me for days, I know it, I really don't mind. I don't want to go back to my empty house full of reminders of a life I no longer have, by myself.

I hug the boys close, they hold me tight. I'm not really capable of emptying my mind for apparition – they know that. So we floo from the mortuary.

I'm home again. _Home_. Such a hard word to think of without him. Will I ever be alright again?

I need to sit. I crawl onto the large brown sofa which was always so comfortable. My eyes focus on the two men in front of me. They're unsure. Obviously. I scoot over to the middle of the couch and invite them either side of me.

We stay there for hours. Then we sleep there. No words are spoken, only hugs and changes in the tightness of their grip, they know that they're the only thing keeping me sane. I love them.

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_Author's Notes:_

_I hope your liking this. I'm trying a different approach to the narrative here then in my other stories. Next update will be Harry's point of view. If you're unclear about the events here, Harry will fix that up for you._


	3. Chapter 2

Author's note-

Author's note-

Hey guys, thanks for the reviews . I want to apologise for the lack of structure in the previous chapters, I was too lazy and didn't realise my line breaks didn't work and something went funny in the upload. I'll sort myself out for this next chapter. Also I've only got a vague direction for this story, so if you have any ideas for twists or plot points, put it in a review and I'll see if I can put it in, it can help me figure out what I want to do with this story.

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I'm sitting here, Ron's asleep – I think he's drooling – on the other side of Hermione; she's lying on my chest and I've got my arms around her. We've all been crying, I hold Hermione tighter as I see a tear slither down her cheek.

I can't believe Dean's gone. He was always there with us, Dean brought something new to our group, something we didn't even know what was missing. We still don't know what it was, but I can't understand why he has to be gone. If I'm hurting this much, I don't know how Hermione feels.

They'd even been trying for a baby.

Hermione is whimpering and crying in her sleep and I can't help but feel useless. It's just then that a thought strikes me. Dean is gone... stop Harry, don't go there.

I somehow convince myself to get some sleep.

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"Harry, Harry, I can't move, Ron's too heavy", I wake up to Hermione's voice and I open my eyes and see her struggling to move Ron's lanky and large form off of herself. I can't help but laugh.

Then she starts laughing. It's a very odd situation. Here we both are, we've been crying and morose for days and nights and now we're laughing. We're laughing so hard that Ron wakes up.

"Wha?" you can hear him mumble as he spies our merth. As he wakes up more he starts laughing too and now we're all laughing and I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.

This whole situation is so stupid and unreal.

I hear a thump and I see Ron on the floor with Hermione sprawled on top of him.

"Doggy pile!" Hermione screams. I can't help but feel like we've just been transported back into Hogwarts, our seventh year, when there was nothing to worry about except exams.

At her call I join them on the floor.

About half an hour later we've finally gathered ourselves up and into Hermione's kitchen we're we are all doing this weird coordinated dance of making breakfast although it does feel like it's missing one person. We used to do this, on the weekends, Ron and I would come over and wake Dean and Hermione, despite their continual groans and complaints, they enjoy the company of Ron and I. Although I think it's sometime in the afternoon we sit down for breakfast anyway.

Hermione passes the salt without me asking it, and Ron makes our tea the way we always drink it. No milk, one sugar for me, milk and two sugars for Hermione, and Ron takes it with milk and as much sugar as is left in the bowl.

"Ron, the way you're going you're going to end up the size of the Knight bus in less than a year – I hate how you men seem to be able to eat as much as you like and look the same, not a single extra kilogram to your weight.

"Jus' lucky I guess 'Mione", I'm astonished he sounded so coherent with the amount of food he had stuffed into his mouth.

I think Hermione was as well because we catch each other's eyes over the table and smile, Ron looks puzzled.

Later on, when Hermione had gone for a shower, Ron and I are talking about what we do next.

Really it's not a discussion, more just acceptance.

"We're going to stay here as long as she needs us, as long as we need each other to get through this", Ron's maturity still astounds me, I just nod in response.

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Ron and I spend the day distracting Hermione from the little things that remind us of him. We take a drive away from the city, spend the day amongst the country, the fresh air, the green grass and the warm sun on our necks makes us feel renewed.

Our days soon followed a schedule. We'd wake up together, if this seemed awkward to outsiders, we never cared. Then we'd do our breakfast dance and spend the day out and about, searching for something that we never quite found. Then we'd either eat out at the strip of fast food restaraunts down the road, or make some sort of dinner before we'd reminisce about Hogwarts days. Sometimes we'd fall asleep over photos, other times we'd gather ourselves up and fall into bed, we'd forced exhaustion on ourselves every day, so that when it came time to sleep, we wouldn't dream.

I knew this couldn't last forever. But right now, I feel like we are closer than ever. Slowly we will feel less sore about our loss, and we'll be able to move on. In two weeks, we'll have to go back to work, well we don't have to, but I know we will, despite our wealth (the only thing that the Ministry did for us), we choose to work, it give us purpose. But right now, our purpose is each other.

In two weeks time, we'll face our reality, until then though, Hermione, Ron and I, are just going to pretend that there isn't anything in the world to trouble us.


	4. Chapter 3

It's the tenth of July. I've been back at work for three days, my job in the Auror's office is mostly inactive at the moment and I'm running myself ill with worry. The main reason I chose to work here as opposed to other, safer jobs was so that I knew I could be with my boys. I need to be with them so I don't worry about what they're doing, I still worry of course, but I think being with them makes my imagination less... imaginative.

Right now they're off trying to bring in a suspect wanted for improper use of magic – honestly, who charms _potatoes_ to uproot themselves and terrorise their muggle gardeners. In any case, it's a fairly routine outing, but you never know what could happen. And ever since, well I just find myself wanting to either be out there with them knowing their safe or at home with them bundled up by my side keeping me company.

In all honesty, I'm finding myself less and less hurt about Dean. I worry that in time, it will be like he was never here.

Later on that night, I told Harry so.

"Hermione, you couldn't possibly forget him, he was such a big part of your, our, lives. True, we may grow more able to handle him not being with us, but that doesn't mean we don't wish he was there. Especially you, you've always had a knack for being compassionate and loving"

When he stopped speaking, he gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen, so when Ron walked in from the kitchen with a piece of cheese hanging out of his mouth, it wasn't really surprising to find us in a tight hug. In fact Ron just walked right back into the kitchen, pretending he was never there.

Actually thinking about it, that was rather odd behaviour. More often lately I find myself more physically loving with Harry, with hugging and small touches than I do with Ron. That's not to say Ron and I are growing apart, it's more to say that mine and Ron's relationship is more vocal, we talk, argue, discuss, joke, while Harry and mine is more physical.

A week and a half after our rejoining of the workforce, Harry, Ron and I sat down to a discussion at the dinner table. They'd both been staying with me indefinitely since Dean died and now it was the time to decide whether things should stay as they are, or whether we were all ready to go back to our separate homes. Harry's – a flat five blocks away and Ron's, a small house near his parents.

When I went to bed that night, I took some time before sleeping to sort through my thoughts, it was a habit of mine ever since I was little. My talk with the boys led us to deciding that Ron would go back to his house, because he felt it was time. That and a small nudge saying he wanted to settle down.

Harry, however was a different story, he and I came to a decision for him to stay with me permanently, his reasoning was that his flat was far too expensive to live in, and my house too big for me to live in alone. We'll help him move his things in on the weekend – three days from now.

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Author's Notes: I know it ended abruptly but I felt that was the best spot. I was going to continue with the move in, but I decided to leave that for the next chapter.


End file.
